who “Tne Mental Health People” are

•2018/10/04 • Comments Off on who “Tne Mental Health People” are

so far in my life I think I have written 2 poems kinda relating to my mind splitting or thinking I got it figured out about what happens when I flip poles and the strangers that seeing inadvertantly kept me on my course…

Recently Ive come to the conclusion that this possibly-perceived “paranoia” about “the Mental Health People” actually isn’t what I’d call them now. I’m beginning to feel less like there are certain people watching me and more like signs from my HPGod. I see cohesion and connectivity among the living beings and things of this planet as some kind of “Divinely Purposed” network. AND i am learning not to fear and hide away from these personal times of heightened awareness (times when I’m on the manic pole) but rather to slow down, sit down, or just take a moment to pause and really observe what I am actually seeing and hearing BEFORE i decide to quickly disregard or if I want to linger/listen to this “Paul Harvey Moment.”

This new approach of mindfulness packed with patience has been a bit nerve-racking, a little scary, but also leaves me feeling like I did something brave for myself and my acclimation to feeling safe in the world on my own. Not to mention, as I often find in these moments of pausing, the person or thing is giving me a piece of their personal history… world of storytellers… story telling saves lives… not just being a story giver but also now able to be a story receiver… which is good for me… kinda-

Coming out of childhood I had a strong sense of safety and good intention from 30s something men (several which I consorted with during my moms dating years) AND  older grey haired couples (influence from living and spending so much time with my grandparents and their friends- intensely through to the age of 17) Therefore, when I first started finding myself either pushed or dumped into the “cold, unforgiving world” I would gravitate towards men in their 30s or older married couples as a resource to provide my basic needs AND THIS practice lead to being led astray a way too many times….

Still cautious, still careful, still turning my back on disregardable messages…. but NOT running, hiding, obsessing over”signs” that keep me woke to all hours of the night… jst pause, stop, still, listen (TRUST/FAITH HPGod)


Retro Love Fuck

•2017/11/29 • Comments Off on Retro Love Fuck

The first thing I ever wrote in 2008 is still my favorite in 2017

“I’m still avoiding things, like feelings, emotions, gut instincts, and everything that would qualify me as female, or a girl anyways. I cannot be a girl now, shit! I’m almost 30 yrs old- never wanted to be one anyways, i used to wish i was a boy when i was young. but he made me his lady and i bought him a house. He loved me like a forbidden pomegranate running red off his chin, sticky and staining his heart, so I took him to Mexico to live forever, we only lasted a month as we couldn’t find a house. He was the most not worthy of me to speak to preppy boy i dreamed about in high school, and he stopped to talk to me, to wash dishes together after hours and laugh and bitch together, so i slipped him the first anonymous love note scribbled in lip liner and snuck into a greasy shirt breast poket left lying around the kitchen. It read: the scent of this shirt makes me wanna Fuck!”


•2017/04/20 • Comments Off on Changes

Nothing changes
If everything remains the same,
Which my brain must always be assuming
It’s goning to happen,
I realized
On the bus today


•2017/03/17 • Comments Off on Dark

Negros grow strong in the dark
Their eyes shining
Their teeth gleaming
Not being shut until
Our justice is brought to light

Time Will Tell

•2017/02/16 • Comments Off on Time Will Tell

You’ve never led me on
but you’ll never let me go
and my brain’s always running our moments
(without me asking for them)
I wonder if our paths will ever come to cross again
or if you’ll remain forever, just a dreamers friend?

Speaking Up 020617

•2017/02/06 • Comments Off on Speaking Up 020617

First I am a daughter

And then I am someone’s sister

And then I am someone with psychosis

And then I am someone’s teacher

And then I am a homeless drug addict

And then I write poems

I write poems for me

Hurting, I write poems so I don’t inflict pain on me

Healing, I write poems so I don’t inflict pain on others

Hoping, I write poems so I can grow strong again

Hesitantly, I write poems so I can speak strength to others

And then I get sick again

So now I’m writing a poem for you

Which I’ve really never done before

But a mind like mine makes no sense-

It can truly drive myself into internal madness

This is how it is…

I am disgusted by the one-upping, while desperately seeking likeability via conformity, too busy being important for deep human connection, the white collar world pursues

(Thus my aversion of ingesting government regulated chemicals whose aim is to keep my mind at an acceptable status-quo level of possessing)

And I am disgusted by the nonchalant parenting, beer belly growing, dirty nail showing, inappropriate volumed talking, good, ol’ boy living of the blue collar types also

(Thus my leave of absence from my marriage with my children- both under 5 years old- to Mexico, which lead to disallowment of further parental rights)

I am inspired by those that the world turns their nose up to, as they continue to pursue their own path no matter what. So long as they do it peacefully. But not those who do so to the point to create disruption in the world, because after all, isn’t there enough of that?

Yet in the same turn, I am sooo turned off by those who lack the gumption to speak up for themselves. After all, how will anything change if one doesn’t take a step in a different direction?

(That’s how I end up in the ER so much,
I have a big mouth, but I won’t raise a fist to anyone)

But I can always write poems

On the days the radio broadcasts instructions in my ear
I sit in my bed a listen to the static words and feel no fear
I don’t drive my car all night trying to solve where they say I should go
I’m better now; I can do other things like listen to the hum of my machine when I sew

Sometimes if I’m too down I won’t go outside day after day
Then I start to get paranoid and feel it’s too dangerous for me to stray
People will notice because I won’t emerge to smoke or even to eat
And I’ll have to go to the hospital wrapped in my safe blanket to even get me out in the street

It’s funny though the way my mind can react to the sun
All I want is just one day to be done with medicine
And yet have a home I can always return to, no matter what
And my mind will finally be free, so I can exist as the true me

But there always remains one little glitch in there, it’s true
That whispering… …”Why am I not like you?”

“with Psychosis” 012517

•2017/01/25 • Comments Off on “with Psychosis” 012517

Do you know who the Mental Health People are?
The ones watching us who go astray?
They can only be detected by our enlightened mind-
On those days when the radio broadcasts instructions
And I know better than to be seen by The Public.
So I travel after dark, free in the moonlight.
Do YOU know who the Mental Health People are?

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